Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 476: The Jester (4)

Dragon Raja 3

He let out a crazed shout and staggered toward the exit. It was all over. He had to leave. He would bury this dream deep within his subconscious forever. In the deepest parts of this dream, the puppet women would endlessly butcher his brother. Dream Tapir was the most dangerous of Yanling, because if someone believed they had truly died in the nightmare created by Dream Tapir, their consciousness would indeed perish, and their real-world body would slowly cool into a lifeless corpse.

Ruri had killed Chisei in his heart, because deep down, Chisei was such a weak person. He had used the ancient dragon blood given to him by Tachibana and arrived at the Red Well with his savage priests, but he had not come with the heart to kill.

Ruri ran up the stairs, one floor after another. A moment ago, he had been a vengeful demon; now, he was like a terrified child. The sound of blades rising and falling, splattering blood, still echoed in his ears. He covered his ears, trying to escape this hell he had created.

He ran and ran until he stopped, standing in front of a creaking door. His eyes widened in terror because, from behind the door, he could hear the sound of water splashing and the horrible sound of blades plunging into flesh.

How could this be? He had clearly run through many levels, reached another door, yet behind this door, another bloody scene was unfolding. Who was killing whom here? Was every door in this world playing out a scene of slaughter?

With trembling hands, he pushed open the door. Inside the moldy storage room, the central cast-iron bathtub was filled with blood-red water, and the beautiful women, like vicious

The young man was dressed in a black trench coat, his delicate hands exposed to the air. Ruri could never mistake those hands, the hands that had led him through the terraced fields so many years ago. He found himself once again in the deepest part of the basement, watching as his corpse puppets murdered his brother.

An indescribable fear overtook him. He turned to run again, but his legs wouldn’t move. In front of him was a maze of branching staircases, leading in every direction—up, down, left, and right. Each staircase was concrete, winding like the path of a labyrinth.

Suddenly, the world had transformed into a vast maze, and he stood at its deepest point.

What was happening? How could his dream become like this? He had experienced this dream countless times over the years, and he knew every blade of grass, every tree by heart. This was his memory of the village of Katari. But now the village was warping into a gigantic maze, and he had become a rat lost within it, just like those first-time visitors to the underground chambers of the Gokuraku-kan, who always felt that once they stepped inside, they could never leave.

Ruri sprinted towards one of the staircases, desperately running. But after turning countless corners, he found himself once again in front of that door.

Panicked, he turned and fled in another direction. Like a lost soul, he ran through the maze, avoiding each creaking door, but no matter what, he always ended up confronting those doors. Behind every door came the sound of slaughter, the maddening sound of murder.

Yes, behind every door in this world, a murder was taking place, and the man being killed was his brother.

Ruri clutched his ears, letting out a heart-wrenching scream, but no one answered. He suddenly remembered when he was very young, staying with his brother in their foster home. Chisei loved to secretly read at night by the light, but their foster father, to save electricity, would always cut the power to their room. The room had no windows, so whenever Ruri awoke from a nightmare, he would be surrounded by total darkness. He would tremble in fear, thinking that every corner of the darkness was filled with monsters ready to devour him. The only thing that would calm him was the sound of his brother’s breathing. He would listen carefully to Chisei’s breath, and only after a long time would he feel safe enough to fall back asleep.

He had always been a sensitive child, constantly fearing abandonment by the world. The only one who would never abandon him was his brother. Now, his childhood fear had come true—the world had abandoned him. He was trapped in his own dream, and his brother had already stopped breathing, slain by the corpse puppets. He suddenly realized the terrible thing he had done. Now, there was no one left to accompany him. He was utterly alone.

Like a madman, he burst through the door, shouting as he pulled the corpse puppets away from the bathtub. He threw himself into the blood-filled tub, clutching his brother’s cold, lifeless body tightly in his arms.

Chisei’s body was riddled with wounds, but no blood flowed from them anymore. He looked so pale, so shriveled, and yet so peaceful. Ruri pressed his ear to his brother’s chest, listening for any sound, but it was silent. And then he remembered—he had been the one who pierced that heart.

No one could ever drive away his fear again. He shook Chisei’s body violently, screaming in terror. The corpse puppets circled around him, their faces seductive and serene. They, of course, knew no fear; they were long dead.

The small boy who had been imprisoned deep within Ruri’s soul began to cry. The expressions of the innocent child and the vengeful demon flickered rapidly across Ruri’s face.

He understood now: he wasn’t trapped in his own dream—he was trapped in Chisei’s. The village of Katari, which existed only in memory, had imprisoned both of their souls. For so many years, Ruri had been unable to leave the village, and neither had Chisei. The nightmares of the two brothers were eerily similar. Dream Tapir had connected their consciousnesses, merging their nightmares into one. Chisei had entered Ruri’s dream, and Ruri had entered Chisei’s. In this nightmare, Ruri had wandered endlessly through the rain-soaked village, waiting for his brother to return while also harboring a desire for revenge. The extreme tension of these emotions had split his personality, creating two nearly independent beings within his body.

And Chisei’s nightmare always led him back to this deep basement. Here, he had killed his own younger brother, and from that moment on, he had never been able to escape. No matter how many times he tried to flee, he would always return to the basement where he had killed his brother, lying down in the bathtub, imagining that it had been himself who had died that night. That’s why he had always wanted to leave Japan. Neither the position of family head nor great power mattered to him. He had lived his short life in the agony of killing his brother.

Now it was Ruri’s turn to be trapped in this nightmare. Only now did he realize how terrifying his brother’s nightmare was—far more sorrowful than his own.

Was this the price of justice? What kind of strength of spirit was required to endure such a painful cost for justice?

All these years, Ruri had lived between two personalities. Chime’s persona longed for his brother’s return, while Ruri’s persona sought revenge. In the end, Ruri had taken complete control of the body, imprisoning Chime deep in his heart, and he had succeeded in exacting his revenge.

But now, Ruri could no longer suppress the boy within. The boy cried out in despair, the thick scent of blood rising from his heart and choking his throat. He coughed up a mouthful of blood, unable to control his sobbing.

Finally, he had won—won everything, and yet he had lost everything. There was no longer anyone whose breathing could soothe him to sleep. The demon pressed his face against Chisei’s cold cheek, weeping with all his heart.

“Brother, don’t leave me… I’ll never disobey you again…” he muttered softly. The word “brother” was spoken so gently, so obediently.

Breaking through all the barriers, Chime’s consciousness surged to the surface, and the mighty demon, Ruri, who had the strength to challenge even the Yamata no Orochi, vanished like smoke in the cries of a young boy from the mountains.

Chime slowly opened his eyes. He was still sitting in the pool of blood, holding the cold body of Chisei in his arms. The rain poured down relentlessly, washing the blood deeper into the Red Well.

As Chime awakened, Dream Tapir was lifted. The nightmare from which Ruri could not escape was easily broken by Chime. This was his simple, true self—the seventeen-year-old boy from the mountains. He had never truly hated anything, and thus, nightmares could not trap him.

Chisei was still alive, but his heart had nearly stopped. Though his body, transformed by the dragon’s blood, remained strong, his vital signs were rapidly fading. The bone covering his face had cracked, and red tears streamed down his hardened, pale skin. This face, which should no longer have been able to cry or laugh, still bore the expression of profound sorrow, a sorrow so great that even his exoskeleton had fractured under its weight.

Chime held his brother and wept bitterly, but he had awoken too late. Chisei’s consciousness had already begun to collapse, and he was unaware of Chime’s presence, unable even to open his eyes and look at him.

After all these years of longing to meet his brother again, the one who had finally reunited with him was the demon named Ruri.

Suddenly, a beam of light descended from above, like a spotlight on a stage, illuminating the two brothers locked in their tragic embrace. At the same time, Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake echoed through the Red Well. A powerful sound system played the ballet’s music, resounding through the air as if mourning the fratricide that had just taken place.

An elevator platform began to descend with a rumble, and the LED lights around it flickered to life. The colorful lights made the otherwise crude equipment appear like a stage. On this glowing platform, someone was dancing gracefully, performing the prince’s steps from Swan Lake.

Chime looked up, bewildered, at the surreal scene unfolding before him.

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